


Job Interview

by fajrdrako



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 00:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fajrdrako/pseuds/fajrdrako
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After "The Parting of the Ways", Captain Jack went for a Torchwood job interview.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Job Interview

**Author's Note:**

> Written before _Torchwood_ ; imagine Captain Jack visiting Torchwood 1 before going back to 19th century Cardiff.

It had taken Captain Jack Harkness a month and several levels of interviews to get to the point where he stood face to face across a desk with Yvonne Hartman in her London Torchwood office. There was a lot of glass and white paint; too much sterile space and light for his comfort. Too much openness.

He smiled broadly, held out his hand, and said, "Jack Harkness."

She surveyed him coolly for a moment before rising and shaking his hand. "Yvonne Hartman. Sit."

It was not an invitation, but a demand. He sat, picturing himself as an obedient spaniel. She didn't intimidate him; she didn't even impress him. This was a woman obviously used to getting her own way, used to working hard to meet her goals, not as smart as she thought she was - perhaps rather too like himself for his own good, but with some significant differences. She probably worked out tactical strategies during sex. Bad priorities.

"Why do you want to work at Torchwood, Mr. Harkness?"

"Captain."

"Sorry?"

"Captain Jack Harkness." He waved towards her laptop, where he would guess his file was already open, though he couldn't see the screen.

"I was unclear exactly what you were captain of."

He felt an absurd impulse to mention the innuendo squad. But no, he really did need to get past, through, and over this rather unusually unpalatable example of human womanhood. "Navy SEALS unit," he said cryptically. "Classified." He had wanted to cite the SAS as his background, but Torchwood might have annoying ways of double-checking.

"Classified, but you still use the title?"

"I earned it."

"Do you always dress like that?"

"Yes." Short and simple, discouraging further questions about period military.

"And why is it you want to work for Torchwood?"

He didn't want to work for Torchwood. He wanted an autonomous position at Torchwood so he could use their resources in tracing the Doctor. Another matter he was not about to mention to Yvonne bloody Hartman. "Because I'd be good at it."

"Yes. I see you have a remarkable - I might say, unprecedented - knowledge of alien lifeforms, and some familiarity with the Cardiff Rift. We had no idea this was known to anyone but us." Damn right they didn't know: they hadn't even noticed when the whole city was being run by a Slitheen. Or cared.

"I was part of a covert investigation into the rift, set up by the Pentagon. Mine was one of those UFO investigation teams that they claim don't exist."

"Are you sure, Mister - excuse me, Captain Harkness - that you would be working for us? Can we trust you not to leak information to your former spymasters? Can we be sure your allegiance has changed?"

"My ultimate loyalty will be to Torchwood, if you hire me. As it stands, the United States and the United Kingdom are allies, not enemies."

"For the present. The interests of the British Empire and the United States may not always coincide."

"There is no British Empire."

"And if there were?"

He wanted to roll his eyes, but didn't. "My loyalty would be to Torchwood. Of course." He held her gaze. The woman was a chauvinist crackpot. Not the first one he'd met, but most of them had been aliens, not apparently sane Englishwomen.

"Your record is strangely blank. You keep yourself off the radar. Your working papers are impeccable - even to our stringent levels - but it appears that you have no birth records. Not in the United States or anywhere else. You were never born. How is that?"

"My elusiveness should be useful to Torchwood. I don't have an identity in the U.S. because the Pentagon erased it."

"If we asked them, would they confirm that? As you say, our countries are allies, not enemies. We have been known to share information, on a quid pro quo basis."

He considered. "They'll probably say they don't know me. I left them. They aren't pleased with me just now. I'm not worth wasting CIA assassins on. But if I had a heart attack right in front of them they wouldn't bother with CPR."

She said abruptly, "What do you know of the Doctor?"

"Which one? I've seen many."

"Let me make this easy for you, Harkness." She tapped the corner of her laptop with a perfectly-manicured finger, so it swung around on her desk and he was able to see the picture on the screen. "You can drop the innocent act."

It was not, as he had half-feared, a picture of himself in a restaurant in Cardiff with the Doctor, Rose and Mickey Smith. Nor was it a picture of himself and the TARDIS in front of the Millennium Centre. No, it was a picture much older than that, taken in London in 1941. A murky snapshot, taken in less than optimum conditions, after dark, of an old (but well lit) rail yard sealed off by the military. The picture showed many people in gas masks, but was cropped - only the centre of the picture was cleaned up to embarrassing clarity. His own face (under the RAF cap) was clearly visible. He was staring at the Doctor, who was in profile. Rose was turned away from the camera, an unidentifiable blonde blur. 

He remembered the moment well. The Chula ambulance was emitting an emergency signal, calling up the troops, as the Doctor had said. Jack had just been realizing the enormity of the damage he had caused.

"That must be my father," said Jack. "That's world war two, isn't it? I wasn't born yet."

"You are lying to me. You have one more chance to tell the truth. Otherwise, you can leave and find work elsewhere."

Jack let the silence drag. Okay: plan C, if he could pull it off. "Okay, then. The truth. We went to 1941 London in the TARDIS. The Blitz. Not my idea of a tourist spot."

"Why go there?"

"The Doctor was following a distress call."

"You knew the Doctor?"

"Yes."

"You travelled with him on the TARDIS?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"How should I know? You can't measure time on the TARDIS. Maybe the Doctor can, but I couldn't. Damn thing messed up all my watches and he doesn't keep calendars. Wouldn't even if he had days and nights in there. Time is just a game to him."

"Were you one of his Companions? They are usually women."

"Are they?" Jack smiled. "I wouldn't know."

"So what was your role on the TARDIS?"

"Sex toy."

"Sorry?"

Got you with that one! he thought triumphantly, but didn't let it show on his face. "I was the TARDIS boytoy. That would make a good headline for an article in one of those tabloids, wouldn't it? Except they'd think it was fiction, and it would end up in some porn mag. Maybe I should just send it to a porn mag in the first place. The Doctor was remarkably creative in bed."

She snapped, "I want the truth, not your silly fantasies."

"Let me tell you, Ms Hartman, I learned many things from the Doctor. Along with some fascinating possibilities of human sexual physiology, he taught me to tell the truth. Best thing he ever taught me."

"Nothing we have learned indicates that the Doctor has sexual relations with his Companions."

"You've asked them, and they denied it? Perhaps they had no incentive to tell you. Not looking to work here, say. Or maybe you've never actually met one of his companions before. They can be elusive, even for Torchwood. Especially for Torchwood. They don't want to be found."

"So you are trying to tell me that he is sexually compatible with humans?" Her scepticism was clear.

"Why not? You thought he was celibate? Or impotent? I don't think he'd be flattered."

"Flattery is beside the point. Are all his companions actually sexual partners?"

"I've no idea. He didn't talk about them. I only know about myself. The truth is, he's particular about who he takes to bed, and he believes in love. You'd think that would rule me out, wouldn't you? Well, it didn't."

"Why should we believe you?"

"It would explain my knowledge of alien life forms."

"So did your Pentagon story."

Jack nodded. "That was true also. I told you: The Doctor changed me. I used to be a con man and a liar. He got me to tell the truth. I was useful to the Pentagon just as I would be useful to Torchwood."

"I should not have been asking you about your loyalty to the United States. I should be asking you about your loyalty to the Doctor. If there were to be a conflict of interest between us and him - and it will happen, make no mistake, Captain Harkness, he is our enemy - where will you stand?"

Jack said coldly, "The bastard dumped me. A billion years from now and miles from anywhere. It was a real bugger to find my way home. It's one thing to be dumped by a lover. It's another to be dumped and left to die alone in the dark with all the other corpses he left in his wake. You ever been through that? I wouldn't wish it on anyone. So ask me what I owe him? The answer is: zilch. Nothing. Fuck-all."

Enough of it was true to be convincing. He let her stare at him thoughtfully, treating her to one of his most profound silences. He'd given her the bread crumbs; let her follow the trail.

She said, "How does the TARDIS work?"

He shrugged. "I never learned anything about that. I was the bed warmer, not the techie. I don't think he liked other people touching the controls. I saw him driving it - lots of levers, lights, jumping about. It was entertaining to watch."

It was Yvonne's turn to be silent. Then she pulled her laptop to herself again, typed a bit, and said crisply, "Captain Harkness, I am going to deny your job application. I think you are still a con man and a liar. I don't think you've so much as met the Doctor, and you are feeding me a tissue of titillating lies based on the bizarre fantasies generated by your own libido. I think we should toss you out on your well-dressed arse. That being said...." She paused, assessing him with her eyes. "I am not the only member of the hiring committee and others were considerably more impressed with your skills and knowledge than I am. We may yet become colleagues. Unless and until that day...." She rose, and extended her hand. "Good-bye, Captain."

He stood, and shook her hand again. Her hand was cool and businesslike. His was warm and enveloping. "Yvonne, are you busy this evening? Care to join me for a drink?"

Her eyes widened. "What makes you think I might?"

"I tell a good story. Maybe you're thirsty. Maybe it would be fun."

She glared. "Maybe you think you can get a position at at Torchwood by seducing me."

He looked surprised. "What a good idea! Do you think I could?"

"Not a chance."

"Well, then. A drink. Maybe even dinner. Why not?"

She shook her head, but her eyes were already accepting the invitation. "Captain? Do you always get what you want?"

He smiled warmly. "Call me Jack."


End file.
